


Synaesthesia

by NineShadows



Series: Incarnatum [1]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Character Study, Drama, F/M, Foreshadowing, Gen, One-Sided Attraction, Science Fiction & Fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-24 06:24:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20701406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NineShadows/pseuds/NineShadows
Summary: She swallows obsession like she breathes air.  It's easy to see what she hides beneath her skin if you take the time to tear each piece off one at a time.(Pregame, a loose chimera of OGC, DoC, and wishful thinking.)





	Synaesthesia

_"Why does my heart go on beating? / Why do these eyes of mine cry? / Don't they know it's the end of the world?"_

\--The End of the World

It would be six months tomorrow.

Six months. Enough time for sutures already removed after sealing a gash on her forehead Enough time for the skin to have risen forth, pink and shiny, leaving a scar that was still tender under her fingers. Six months were enough to have bled the colour from the memory of waking up in a hospital bed, with tubes attached everywhere.

It was time enough for a bone to set, have a cast removed, but not long enough to erase the nightmares that came every night. Suffocating nightmares of blinding light, searing heat, screams, the sound of tearing flesh, bone crushing, glass shattering, and the smell of blood, or the feel of it - syrupy thick - gliding down arms and legs. Worse than any of those things was the panic of stumbling blindly, finally, crawling through splintered pieces of furniture, searching, reaching out... not finding _him_ in the chaos.

There was no escaping, not in quiet moments when she was forced to sit and wait. So breathing became a chore, unwilling lungs choked on air, her mind teetered between reason and despair.

The soft purring of the telephone eventually drowned out the terrified scream in her head, and she found herself staring blankly at the methodical movements of the receptionist's hands as she switched lines.Three rows of buttons, more than a dozen blinking orange lights. More than a dozen voices on the lines hoping to reach someone. The woman's hands fluttered over the switchboard, pressing here and there without missing a beat. A litany of bland phrases flowed from her lips with each subsequent light she pressed: _I'll_ _check_, _please hold; I'll connect you shortly; would you like to leave a message? Urban Development is on line 3 for you, Madam Director; Doctor Faremis is in a meeting right now; yes, can you send that up to the 56th floor, they've been asking for it?_

Waiting minutes were endless minutes. She had never been an anxious woman, her career demanded many moments of waiting, and through the years, she had cultivated a beautifully patient personality. Titers required time, compound analyses required time, as did specimen cultures and a myriad other procedures that had eventually become second nature to her.

Worse still, sitting in the waiting room of the Shinra Science Research Department did not offer her the opportunity to relax. Her hazel eyes flitted nervously between the oversized double doors leading to the conference room and the clock on the wall behind the receptionist's desk. When did she become so preoccupied with time?

Outside, the approaching thunderstorm buffeted the floor-to-ceiling windowpanes, making them shudder with each rumble. Muted, grey thunderheads obscured the little light that permeated the tinted windows, leaving the waiting room to fend off the gloom with feeble yellow sconces glowing against deep mahogany paneled walls. A strange contrast to the brightly lit rooms in which she spent most of her existence.

Lucrecia's fingernails tapped against her stack of folders in time with the ticking clock. The involuntary sigh that escaped her lips earned her a glare from the receptionist; an unfriendly, waspish woman who wore too much eyeshadow. It was her fifth sigh in less than ten minutes, according to the clock. She supposed that it was reason enough to be glared at… she must be annoying. 

Too bad she wasn't feeling charitable enough to quit her fretting. It was hard to concentrate on the other woman's comfort when the future of her career lay on the chopping block. The ever-present ache in her thigh pulsed a reminder to her; the painful twinge forced her to shift her position slightly in order to stretch her leg out in front of her just a bit to relieve the tension in her muscles.

A distinctive chirping from the receptionist's multi-buttoned machine caught her off-guard and her eyes immediately locked on the conference room doors. That nagging fluttering in her stomach started at double pace. The woman tapped the side of her headpiece and listened for a few seconds before covering the microphone end with a well-manicured hand.

"Doctor Crescent? the receptionist barely spared her a glance as she switched off the intercom module and returned her attention to the large flat computer screen on her desk. "They're ready for you now."

Her legs, long-since numbed by the weight of her folders and briefcase objected at the sudden shift in position. She was grateful for the lack of an audience as she straightened ram-rod and made her way across the waiting room on wobbly legs.

**Author's Note:**

> There's so much Dirge of Cerberus could have done to shed light on who Lucrecia Crescent was beyond the womb that gestated Sephiroth. The picture we got was of a shrill hysteric. We barely scratched the surface of her trauma, of her losses, or what made Vincent fall in love and persist in his devotion for thirty years after she'd died. I don't hate the source material, but I don't feel like it gave me enough in certain areas. That's why I'm writing these stories. 
> 
> This story will serve as the prequel to Incarnatum, I guess...
> 
> Also, those things she tends to say in DoC make a delicious filling for my Grimoire/Lucrecia pie. 
> 
> I hope you'll give this a chance.


End file.
